


Virility

by spinninginfinityboy



Category: Ravenous (1999)
Genre: Blood Kink, Cannibalism, Come Eating, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Quadruple Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-19 05:28:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 400
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29869854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinninginfinityboy/pseuds/spinninginfinityboy
Summary: Boyd moans low in his throat, the tip of his tongue tracing the split skin with the same reverence he last tasted a lady's cunt....Or, the obligatory retelling of that one scene
Relationships: John Boyd/Ives
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Virility

**Author's Note:**

> Look. I'm drunk, and I just watched this film for the first time, and frankly I've seen actual pornography less homoerotic than the scene where Ives offers Boyd his palm and if I didn't get this out of my system I might combust

Colqhoun - _Ives_ is making abortive little thrusts against thin air, as though the lips swallowing down his dripping blood are wrapped around his cock. Truth be told, Boyd is hardly half aware of it. He moans low in his throat, lets the tip of his tongue trace the split skin with the same reverence he last tasted a lady's cunt. Blood coats his tongue, thick, salty, only increasing his thirst for... Whatever this is, this damned eucharist of which he is drinking.

Ives has a hand about his prick before Boyd even realises he's hard, and he whimpers, moans into the space between the skin and the muscle, exposed tendons shifting as the intimacy of it settles in the bones of Ives. Stained. Permanent. Boyd pushes his hips forward, uncaring of what it is that smooths the man's grip, conscious only of the pleasure in the movement. He's weeping. The salt-wet slick of it mingles with the blood about his lips. Christ, but he wants it. Wants Ives' touch, wants it to continue even as he despises himself for it.

At once, the blood stops coming. No amount of pitiful nosing at the gash will bring more to his lips; sucking clean his fingers to the root, Boyd chokes down his pleasure in breathless ecstasy. He kisses desperate lines across Ives' palm, down his wrist, until he's mouthing at the man's neck with little consciousness of how he got there.

Ives groans deep enough he can taste it, and as he comes, sobbing, across the man's hand, Boyd bites down hard enough to taste that same heart-sweet blood. Ives laughs. It's the sweetest sound Boyd thinks he's ever heard. He can't find it in him to move back; can hardly find it in him to lift his mouth from the fresh gash at Ives' neck, already healing, lapping pitifully at the wound. Still, he can see plain enough from the corner of his eye Ives grinning as he licks Boyd's spend from his fingers.

"Almost," he says, so near Boyd's ear it makes him shiver, his softening cock rallying valiantly, "as good as the blood."

His mind blank, save the urge to fall to his knees and taste for himself, Boyd goes limp. The taste of salt and promised virility fills his throat. With the desire of a man half starved, Boyd looks Ives in the eye, and swallows hard.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it far enough to offer me a blessed little comment, I am spectacularly grateful


End file.
